SHE WILL MEET ME AT THE GATES OF HEAVEN. I WILL NOT BE AFRAID AGAIN

I was fortunate to have two wonderful, loving grandmothers. This grandmother, Lizzie, was my father's mother. My father was her oldest son, and my grandmother could not walk past him without patting him on the back, or touching his hair. She loved my father. She loved us too and her way of loving was to hug us until we couldn't breath.
My grandparents lived on the second floor in a house in Cleveland Ohio. Every Saturday, "Mommy Owens" went to the A&P for groceries. My father and I went to visit after they came back from the store. I was 10 or 11 and remember walking up the stairs and smelling coffee being perked in a stove top perculator. I didn't drink coffee, but I enjoyed the aroma. Mommy Owens always bought my father cake of some kind, and the coffee was for him.
She lived a hard life with my grandfather. My father was always putting him in his place. The only solace my grandmother had was going to church. She would pick me up and she'd find a few hours of peace in her short life.
My grandmother got cancer when she was 52. It was hard and quick and then she died.
I was 12 years old. Years ago, you could have a body put into a casket and drive it to where it was going. My grandmother was laid out and then my father used his stationwagon to carry it to Kentucky for her burial. I asked to go. My mother was staying home with my 5 younger sisters.
The same night she died, my father was asleep, the little ones were upstairs and I was on the sofa in the family room, at the foot of the steps to the upstairs. The house was quiet and dark. The bathroom light was on, a room away from me. The light was also on at the top of the stairs. I laid on the couch, in thoughts of my grandmother and heard one of my sisters come downstairs.
I turned my head toward the stairs and saw something tall and very white. It wasn't one of my sisters.
The Bible says angels are men....cherubim and seraphims. My angel was a young woman. She was tall, had long blonde curly hair, a white robe with a gold sash type of belt and sandals on her feel. She was wrapped in a glow and the feathers on her tall, enormous wings were not over 1 ",and there were thousands of them. The thing I couldn't wrap my mind around, was how was she going to get those tall, sculptured wings through the doorway. To this day, 49 years later, I can still see her in my mind.
At that point, I heard her foot slide over the step and realized it was not my imagination. She was real, as real as I was. What did I do? I got up and ran, to bed with my father.
I didn't tell my father, or anyone else, about the angel. I was 12 and I knew they would laugh at me.
My father passed away 14 years later. My five sisters and I were at my house planning his funeral. For some reason, maybe to comfort them, I started to tell them about my angel. When I did , one of my sisters looked at me in amazement, like I had lost my mind...I wasn't sure what the look was. She asked me to stop, took 2 sisters with her to the other room, and asked me to tell the remaining 2 the story.
We came together a few minutes later with the story and pieced it together. The sister that stopped me from telling my story, said she was in bed, heard someone come out of one of the upstairs bedrooms, looked in the hall from her bed and saw my ....now, our granmothers...angel start to walk down the stairs, where I saw her.
She was 7 and afraid. I was 12 and afraid. We never told anyone.
I regret running away from her. I wish I would have stayed to see what her journey to us was about. I think she wanted us to know our grandmother was in Heaven.
I regret not telling my father. It may have eased his grief.
I regret that in all my years on earth, I've never seen her, again. She is my grandmothers angel. I know she's around somewhere.
And I bet that when I do go to Heaven, she'll be the first one I see.

EASY UPDATES FOR YOUR KITCHEN OR BATH

My kitchen has fruit tile. It's just not my style, so rather than rip it out, I covered it with wallpaper border. You can do this, just to change your kitchen.

It was easy. Wet it and simply put it up like you would on a wall. It comes off easily, so you can change the kitchen or bath without a lot of money.
While we're on kitchens:
I installed under cabinet florescent lights that plug into outlets. Mine look harsh, but are not. Now, I have to go finish my border!

FOR THE LOVE OF ONE GOOD MAN

I married Bobby when I was 58 years old and he was 62. By that time, most people have lived their married life, had their children and moved on to retirement, together. We didn't have that chance. He was a widower and I had just lived through a divorce from a 24 year old marriage.
I was living just fine. I had a good job, owned my own nice home, had a car and truck that were paid for. I owed no one. No one told me what to do. I shoveled my own snow, cut my grass and went where I wanted.
Except I didn't.
I saved a lot of money, because I went no where and did nothing. It was the perfect time of my life but I had no joy from it. Except for the comfort of a picture of Jesus Christ on the wall, I was always alone. I wanted to be alone. My daily prayer was....Father, if there is someone out there for me, you'll have to send him. I'm not going out to look.
I suffered from a horrible depression after my divorce, and was still at the end of it. When work was done, I went straight home, and was in my p.j.'s by 5 p.m. I had my quilt on my chair, watched t.v. or listened to my books on tape. I went to bed at 8 o'clock and got up at 5 a.m....for 4 years. I saw my children on weekends and holidays and cherished the time with them. I even put forth an effort to cook dinner, not realizing it was the only time I cooked.
I had a friend who asked me to meet "this nice guy." Too much effort for me. No thanks. My friend said he's perfect for me. I asked how so and she said she didn't know, couldn't explain it. No thanks...and if you don't know, I'll stay like I am...my life is fine. The sad part? I thought it was. I was on top of the world!
During the course of 8 months, this friend asked me to meet "nice guy" 3 times. I turned her down. Why would I want to mess up my routine? I liked living alone.
One day my friend called to ask me to a girls night out. It was like pulling teeth for her. I gave every excuse I had, but she won, and I went. It was fun, dinner and a band, with just girls.
Of course, the conversation got on "nice guy" and I felt trapped. The other girls knew him and went on and on about him. My friend said we were perfect for each other. I told her that statement bugged me, without the whys. She didn't know why.
"Nice guy" had a boat and the girls went out with him in the summer. I was asked to go, and agreed. After all, it was January and I could always bow out.
My so called friend gave "nice guy" my email address. Thanks kid...that's all I needed. After ignoring the emails, she gave him my phone number. It was time for a killing!
"Nice guy" seemed to misunderstand every thing I said and I'd have to explain my comments, which irritated the garbage out of me....but he would not stop calling. I was fed up with him and the intrusion into my life and when he asked to meet me for coffee, I went in full force. Now, I could tell him what I thought of him, and our mutual friend! Bring it on, Bud, you're going to get it!
We lived 83 miles apart, so one Wednesday evening, we drove halfway to meet. I remember being angry that I had to go out of my way, and wanted to be home in my p.j.'s.
I got to the restaurant first. He called stating he'd be a little late. I worked all day and he did not. He was retired, and was going to be late? The more that went on, the worse it got. My anger was white hot.
I ordered 2 coffee's, and waited. And waited. I had my head turned, looking out the window and heard someone clear their throat. I turned around to stare at a belt buckle. Ok, I'll look up to the lowest button on his shirt. I could hear him chuckling, a little. My eyes moved up two more buttons. As I lingered there, he asked "why is my coffee across the table? I didn't drive this far to sit over there." Damn! Now, I had to look up because he spoke. I slowly went up one more button, and then I was at his throat. He made not a sound. I took a deep breath, looked at his face. All of the anger was gone. He sat down and stared at me. He stared so close at me, I could feel my deodorant failing.
We talked for quite awhile. We continued talking on the phone for 10 more days when he asked me to visit him for the weekend. If we had not know mututal people, I would have refused, but I figured if he was a serial killer, someone would find me.
At the start of all of this, I went to his house. I didn't want him involved in my life, so soon. After awhile, I invited him to my home. Here's the scary part...he started coming over in March. My Christmas decorations were not completely down! (Don't forget....I was busy watching t.v.) When I went to work, he took them down, packed them away without saying a word. He cleaned my garage. He changed the oil in my vehicles. He carried out trash....made dinner. What was he thinking? What was he doing?
After a few more months, he proposed. I expect my reaction would have scared off the strongest of men. I laughed. I laughed because I truly thought he was kidding. He expected me to give up on this life I was living?
He proposed to me 5 times and I stopped laughing, but explained why my answer was no.
On the 6th proposal, I turned the tables and asked him why. He gave me the right answers. I said yes.
After we were married, our mutual friend came to our home for a visit. We were on the deck, eating, and all of a sudden, she yelled "I know what it is!"...and was met with complete silence for a few seconds. Then she said "Remember when I told you that you guys were perfect for each other and I couldn't explain it? It was the hurt....you both had the same look of hurt and pain in your eyes, but it's gone. I can't see it anymore."
So, we bought a home 83 miles away from where I worked. His parents are still here and need him, and it was to be our retirement home. Big mistake. I traveled, he traveled....anything for time with each other. I came home Friday nights at 6 p.m. and left Sunday at 4 p.m. for 3 years.
I have since then retired, I am home all of the time and at first, I enjoyed being home so much, he did the grocery shopping. I did not want to go anywhere. It is calming down, now.
So, I gave up my p.j.s and t.v. routine for a life with love, companionship, to be with someone so alike me, it's odd. We were both born in Kentucky and when he uses his country slang around my children, I tell them what he means. We love the same programs, working in the yard, growing gardens and flowers, freezing and canning, traveling to see our families, pick up trucks, computers, country decorating, country music, playing guitars, we refurbish furniture and love to work with our tools, we like the same food and we have the same belief in God. My Mother was ill and spent seven months with us. He never complained. He's interested in my crafts and tells everyone he meets about the book I wrote.
Remember when he was late for our coffee meeting? I found out later, he changed clothes several times, stopped at his Mothers home and paced until she told him to sit down!
When I said my daily prayer to Jesus? Jesus was my companion, my room mate during that time of my life, but He answered my prayer when the time was right. I was asked to meet this man several times over a course of eight months. The Lord let me meet him when His time was right..and my Bobby is, indeed, the answer to my prayers.

CANCER CANNOT HAVE MY SISTER

Recently,our little sister Kathy was diagnosed with cancer. I pray that you never get a phone call like that, and if you have, then you understand the helplessness you feel when it comes. There are no words and you feel like you aren't doing what you should be doing...saying the right words, but you simply are incappable of speech. Your mind is screaming....but you can't scream out loud. I am thankful that it was my sister Sharon that called. She totally understands me and let the silence go for as long as I needed. I'm glad she knew that when my breathing started again that the tears were coming. I'm glad she stiffled her tears until my shock was over and I'm glad she just let me cry with her, without having to talk. I am grateful for this sister that knows me so well.
It seemed with every message the news was worse. Kathy had 3 areas in her body with cancer. She was going to receive chemo. She lost her hair. She was tired and sick all of the time, and you could see it in her face. You could hear it in her voice.
Kathy lives in another state, so we didn't see her daily. She wore pretty scarves and hats and was constantly being asked where she got them. . On one visit, she asked if I minded if she took the scarf off of her head. I'm glad she walked away after I answered her, because that was a rough moment for me. I wanted to say yes, take the damned thing off. I'm your sister. Let me kiss your bald head! All I said was of course, I don't mind.
She fought that cancer like you'd fight an intruder in your home. Right from the start, Kathy was the strong one. She told us not to cry! She cried one time through it all. The rest of the time was spent fighting.
We believe in God and in his grace and mercy. We relied on Him to keep our little sister safe, and Kathy never had a doubt that He would. Never.
The fact that she is cancer free, absolutely no signs of cancer, is not surprising to us. She refused to let it have her. She laid the cancer at the foot of the cross, walked away, did what she had to do with medical tests and came out of it. I have never seen such strength in my life.
Of course, the sister, Sharon, that knows me was the one to call and tell me. I was in Hobby Lobby and she asked if I had talked to Kathy. I waited for the bad news, and Sharon said, go outside. I said please tell me. When she said all cancer is gone, I blindly walked, stumbled out of that store. I walked all the way to my car, not trusting myself to speak, and when I reached the car, she listened to me cry, again, crying with me.
Where do you find a pact like that? Where do you find someone that knows how you will react and walks you through it? Our sister was so sick, but more worried about us. Where do you find strength like that?
Only in a sister.

MY COUNTRY BATHROOM....USE WHAT YOU HAVE

I am a firm believer in use what you have. It's cheaper, imaginitive and fun...not to mention good for the environment. I had towel racks, but the french didn't do it for me. I had a partial roll of country wallpaper border and created new racks.
I wanted to change my bathroom. This is what I did. I started to paint it lavender. I didn't like it, and realized I had nothing lavender for the room and would have had to make or buy all new, so I did this. I painted everything beige.....paneling and all. This is what I ended up with...I even had the red checked fabric for the curtains and I am braiding a throw rug from flannel, so all the room cost me was the lavender paint. In the spring, my husband will make a door to cover the in the wall shelves by the window. My curtain rods were kitchen ones....I painted them red in the center, the part you can see.

A QUILT MADE IN SMALL PIECES

Start the quilt by making a bunch....according to the size....of 9 patch quilt squares. I used 4" squares, so 3 squares minus 2 seams of 1/4" makes the square 11 1/2". I cut across the folded piece of muslin, safely about 13". I opened the material, laid in a 12" square of batting, closed it and traved on a quilt stencil that was approximately 10". I put the stencil right at the edge of the open side because when you trim the muslin, the folded end, opened, is big enough for the back of the 9 patch. I can't just sit and watch t.v. and all of the solid squares were quilted while I sat and suffered through basketball and football!
Put a piece of batting between the 9 patch and muslin and stich the squares on your machine, to quilt.
When you join the 2 pieces together, the quilting is done. This is a better picture of the quilting. When assembled, all you have to do is add a border. This is two large pieces I have joined . When I get the quilt done, I will add the picture. I hope I explained this ok. If you need help, please leave a comment.

MY $8 COUNTRY SECRETARY DESK/CUPBOARD

When I bought this "secretary desk" at a thrift store...I wish I had taken before and after pictures.....the bottom had cheap, paneling sliding doors in it. We took those off and built country chicken wire doors. I love this piece. Best of all, it cost $8.00!

YOU ARE MY BLOOD

This is a post I wrote on one of our family webpages.
One of our "little" cousins and a "big" cousin wrote a post that has plaqued me since I read it. I had the blessed opportunity to have 6 uninterrupted hours with Maw before she took ill. In the 52 years that she was my grandmother, on that day is when I knew what kind of woman she really was. First of all, for all you who didn't have the time with her...I never....ever heard her speak badly about anyone, repeat rumors or judge anyone. Never. She loved each member of her family, totally and unconditionally. Maw worked hard, but I never knew how hard, until that day. Pap went to look for work during the depression and Maw was left at home with many small children. The food ran out and Maw said she was standing at her kitchen window, praying for food. A few minutes later, a wild boar was in the yard. She said to me, "you can believe it, or not." Anyone that knew Maw, believed it. After Maw sent up a prayer of thanks, she went outside, killed the boar, cut it up, salted it down and hung it in the smokehouse. She said she felt like a millionaire that day. When she told me the story, she cried when she said " I knew I could feed my children." Most of us know that Maw didn't spend too much time crying. If there was a problem, she got up and took care of it. Mom told me that Maw and Pap bought their seeds in feedsacks and they were a pretty, printed material. When the bag was empty, Maw would make clothes for the kids. Mom said she'd make them a new dress with a "cap" to match. Maw planted a garden to feed them all, harvested and canned everything she could. Like Ocie has told you, she washed clothes in a huge pot of hot water, outside. When we were small, there would be a bucket of water on the sink with a dipper in it. That was the best water I've ever tasted. I remember her treadle sewing machine. Maw would make that thing hum, as she worked. She had her daytime chores and her night time chores. Maw did not sit her days away. I used to wonder if she really slept when she went to bed. It was hard to imagine her being still for so long. Some of us have been close to this family all of our lives, some couldn't because of distance and others are "coming home." I have sent up thanks for Ocie starting this page. When I read, I realize so many of us were looking for "identity", a belonging, as Cousin David said. We can walk this life, assured of an identity. I find myself being drawn to the things that Maw did, more and more. I like the homemade, the things you do that your heart leads you to. If Maw needed something, she made it if that was the only way. She quilted, sewed her children's clothes, planted and grew their food, carried water, canned and made biscuits and gravy every morning of her life. She worked so hard, but when she touched you on the face, her hands felt like an angel's hands. I planted white morning glories because my mother told me they were Maw's favorite flower, and no matter where they lived, she'd plant those flowers. If Maw saw a snake in the yard she'd kill it with a hoe. If it crawled into a pile of rocks, she'd move the pile to get to the snake so her children would not be hurt. The world we are in, now, is wrought with financial hardships, high prices, maybe losing a home, a loved one, a job. I think we have to realize that it is simply the way it is and just do the best we can. God will provide. But, now we all have another bit of strength to add to the mix... We came from strength. Their children passed that strength to us. We came from good hearts. We came from people who worshipped and lived for God. We came from people who surrvived and held together. We came from people who loved you unconditionally. We came from a legacy that is rightfully ours. Marisa reminded us of that. She reminded and brought to us the message our grandmother left to us, all of us. YOU ARE MY BLOOD.This is a post I wrote on one of our family webpages.
One of our "little" cousins and a "big" cousin wrote a post that has plaqued me since I read it. I had the blessed opportunity to have 6 uninterrupted hours with Maw before she took ill. In the 52 years that she was my grandmother, on that day is when I knew what kind of woman she really was. First of all, for all you who didn't have the time with her...I never....ever heard her speak badly about anyone, repeat rumors or judge anyone. Never. She loved each member of her family, totally and unconditionally. Maw worked hard, but I never knew how hard, until that day. Pap went to look for work during the depression and Maw was left at home with many small children. The food ran out and Maw said she was standing at her kitchen window, praying for food. A few minutes later, a wild boar was in the yard. She said to me, "you can believe it, or not." Anyone that knew Maw, believed it. After Maw sent up a prayer of thanks, she went outside, killed the boar, cut it up, salted it down and hung it in the smokehouse. She said she felt like a millionaire that day. When she told me the story, she cried when she said " I knew I could feed my children." Most of us know that Maw didn't spend too much time crying. If there was a problem, she got up and took care of it. Mom told me that Maw and Pap bought their seeds in feedsacks and they were a pretty, printed material. When the bag was empty, Maw would make clothes for the kids. Mom said she'd make them a new dress with a "cap" to match. Maw planted a garden to feed them all, harvested and canned everything she could. Like Ocie has told you, she washed clothes in a huge pot of hot water, outside. When we were small, there would be a bucket of water on the sink with a dipper in it. That was the best water I've ever tasted. I remember her treadle sewing machine. Maw would make that thing hum, as she worked. She had her daytime chores and her night time chores. Maw did not sit her days away. I used to wonder if she really slept when she went to bed. It was hard to imagine her being still for so long. Some of us have been close to this family all of our lives, some couldn't because of distance and others are "coming home." I have sent up thanks for Ocie starting this page. When I read, I realize so many of us were looking for "identity", a belonging, as Cousin David said. We can walk this life, assured of an identity. I find myself being drawn to the things that Maw did, more and more. I like the homemade, the things you do that your heart leads you to. If Maw needed something, she made it if that was the only way. She quilted, sewed her children's clothes, planted and grew their food, carried water, canned and made biscuits and gravy every morning of her life. She worked so hard, but when she touched you on the face, her hands felt like an angel's hands. I planted white morning glories because my mother told me they were Maw's favorite flower, and no matter where they lived, she'd plant those flowers. If Maw saw a snake in the yard she'd kill it with a hoe. If it crawled into a pile of rocks, she'd move the pile to get to the snake so her children would not be hurt. The world we are in, now, is wrought with financial hardships, high prices, maybe losing a home, a loved one, a job. I think we have to realize that it is simply the way it is and just do the best we can. God will provide. But, now we all have another bit of strength to add to the mix... We came from strength. Their children passed that strength to us. We came from good hearts. We came from people who worshipped and lived for God. We came from people who surrvived and held together. We came from people who loved you unconditionally. We came from a legacy that is rightfully ours. Marisa reminded us of that. She reminded and brought to us the message our grandmother left to us, all of us. YOU ARE MY BLOOD.